Legacy
by liesmyth
Summary: Parenting is never easy. Kid fic, post series. WIP. [ONGOING]
1. The News

**A/N:** Because everyone and their grandmother wrote of these; here's my spin on it.  
BTW, I think this might just be the very first fic I ever wrote (aww, the memories!) so please do excuse the obvious writing deficiencies. Also, everything canon happened.

. . .

The sky was grey and the air thick and stifling on the Tuesday morning when Rory's precisely planned out life went up in flames. It was hot, even with the A/C blasting at full power; and the world outside her tiny motel room smelled like rain – the beautiful, rich aroma Rory had always associated to winter days and cozy rooms full of books, snuggled on the couch with a cup of hot cocoa.

Instead she found herself stranded in the middle of a crazy Midwestern summer, moody and malcontent and utterly alone, sweating and trying to ignore her growing headache in time to make her 9am deadline.

"…how long this vantage will last. Period."

Rory bit her tongue as she pressed the last key with perhaps too much satisfaction, bashing in the glory of a job well done, and the hope of a couple more hours of sleep. The reporters' bus was _brutal_ on her back – somewhat odd, as she'd never had problems sleeping on weird surfaces before – and getting a little more sleep in an actual _bed_ with a _pillow_ was becoming more and more of a delight.

Rory let out a content sigh, closed her eyes, and went back to sleep.

"Rory."

It was soft over the mattress, and peaceful. "Mmm?"

"Rory. Rory."

It sounded like her mom, almost. When Lorelai would get in one of her moods, and get into Rory's room in the middle of the night, perched on her bed, calling –

"Rory. Wake up."

Rory opened one eye gingerly, then the other.

"You're not my alarm."

It was not – it wasn't her mother either, but rather her roommate Jenna, an easygoing freckled blonde from Minnesota who usually knew better than wake people up when they were sleeping.

"What the heck, Jen. I'm _tired_."

"Yes, I can see that." The other girl smiled, but there was something weird about it. It was the Emily Gilmore Smile, all cheerfulness and zero substance.

"So, what is it?" Rory asked, sneaking a glance at her alarm clock. Twenty past ten, and she didn't have to even get up until eleven at least. She would not accept anything but the impending end of the world as a good enough excuse to be woken up.

"So, I was talking to my sister," Jenna began.

"Oh my god, did something happen? Do you need to go home? Want me to cover for you or something?"

"No, no," the other girl was quickly to assure. "It's not that. Just… there's this thing that's been bugging me for a while, and I didn't say anything about it 'cause we just met each other, but I was talking to Theresa and something came up."

"Right," Rory said, nodding, doing her best to follow as she discretely rubbed her eyes. _So_ that _'s how it feels like to be on the other side of verbal vomit_. It was a novel experience. Most time in her life she was the one going off on rants – unless she was talking to Lorelai, obviously. Or Paris, but then again Paris was her own kind of crazy.

"So I got you a thing," Jenna said. "And we don't even have to talk about it if you want, but I'm here if you need a friend."

"Right," Rory said again, now even more confused. And Jenna – stupid Midwesterns and their stupid politeness. The girls was making her feel guilty about having been moody and surly for the entirety of their acquaintance, but it wasn't exactly like Rory had planned on it. She'd just found herself brooding more often than not, missing her familiar rhythms, missing the safety net of her family and friends a car ride away, missing…

Everything.

"So are you going to see what it is?" Jenna asked.

"Am I going to see, what?"

"This," Jenna said, handing her a paper bag.

Rory took it. It was a normal paper bag, the kind you could get anywhere, with the logo of a store she didn't recognize and a local address printed on the front.

Inside the bag was a pregnancy test.

Rory just stared at the little box for the longest time, frowning. She'd never actually _seen_ one before, only casually at the pharmacy in New Haven, but it wasn't like she'd purposefully gone looking – it wasn't like she'd ever _needed_ one –

"Wait."

"Wait," Rory told Jenna. "Do you think I'm _pregnant_?"

Jenna's blank look was all the answer she needed.

"No," Rory said. "Look, I appreciate your… consideration, but you're wrong. I'm not _pregnant_."

Not her. Not Rory Gilmore, surely; Stars Hollow golden girl, Yale Graduate, out for the first time in the big world. She was going to _do things_. She was going to have a future, a life, a career.

Beside – if she'd been pregnant, would she have _noticed_? Surely she'd have been the first person to realize it, not some girl from _Oakdale_ that she barely even knew.

"Look, you're wrong." Rory repeated. She _wasn't_ – she tried to remember the last time she'd had her period. There had been so much stress, what with the settling into a whole new lifestyle, and graduation before that, and the job search…

"I, uhm." Rory said. It was cold all of a sudden. She realized she was still wearing her sleeping shorts and thin white shirt, and reflexively rubbed her shoulders with her hands. "I'd better, uh. Go… see."

"Yeah," Jenna gave her a bright, kind smile, and Rory almost wished she could hate her. "There's two in the box, you know. Just in case."

"Right," Rory said again – was it the third or the fourth time? What a perfect English major she was.

 _I'm not pregnant_ , she thought. _Not pregnant, not pregnant, not pregnant_.

She kept telling herself that for what felt like hours, walking slowly out of the room and into the shared floor bathroom, hoping with every fiber of her being that she wouldn't meet anyone. _Not pregnant_ , Rory whispered on her way back to the room, both tests back in the paper bag held in her trembling hands, burning. _Not pregnant_ , she repeated to herself, pacing back and forth across the room, almost biting Jenna's head off when the other girl asked if she should step outside.

 _Not pregnant_ , Rory thought, even as both test came back with two thin lines. _Not pregnant, not pregnant, I can't be pregnant…_

"Rory," Jenna said. "Rory, breathe. You're shaking."

Yes she was, wasn't she? It felt so strange and distant, as if she were floating somewhere outside her body, watching someone else. Someone else's life. Someone else's failure. Someone else's pregnancy.

"Is there anyone you could call?" Jenna again. Was that girl _everywhere_? The only thing Rory wanted now was to curl up in a ball and cry and forget the world. "Maybe a boyfriend, or –"

"No," Rory said. "Not really. I don't have a boyfriend, we – we broke up."

Was there anyone she could call, Rory wondered. Not her erstwhile boyfriend, surely, who was probably chasing dizzy blondes all over the West Coast. Not her mother, whom she hadn't heard from in weeks thanks to endless delays and late-nights and spot cell coverage, who would let the disappointment filter thorough her voice, the unspoken, _I raised you better than that_. Her father, maybe, if he hadn't been busy playing house with his _other_ daughter, the one he'd actually been a father to, the one who would never find herself pregnant at _twenty-two_.

"I don't have to call anyone," Rory said. "Really. I'm good."

. . .

" _Sixteen weeks_ ," Rory repeated. It felt so unreal, more so the longer she thought about it. "Sixteen. You're telling me I am sixteen weeks along."

"That's correct, miss," the doctor said. She was looking completely professional, not even vaguely amused or judgmental, but Rory could imagine what the woman was thinking. What kind of idiot doesn't realize she's pregnant for _four months_?

Apparently, the kind of idiot who's so busy and stressed that doesn't realize something is going on. The kind of idiot who was blessed with good genetics and a lack of morning sickness, and has always had odd cravings for the entirety of her life. The kind of idiot who broke up with her boyfriend and started a new job and was deep enough in denial to blame all the fast food and erratic lifestyle when she realized that her favorite shirt had started to feel a little tight against her belly and breasts, despite never having put on a pound since age fifteen.

She couldn't do that. She couldn't _conceivably_ do that – who on Earth had decided that Rory Gilmore of all people was the right woman to saddle with a kid of all things, during the phase of her life when she didn't even have a _bed_?

And there it was, right on the screen – a tiny, avocado-sized lump of a thing with, according to Doctor Hansen, growing toenails. _Wonderful_.

Rory brought her hand to her face, closing her eyes and letting out a deep breath.

"I need air."

She needed so many things.

 _I need air, and space, and not to be pregnant._

Not that she could do _that_ –with those stupid delay periods and the medieval mandatory counseling. Standing alone outside the building, sweating and almost crying, Rory took out her phone and called her boss.

"Hugo, hey," she said into the phone. "It's me. Look – a family emergency came up and I need to fly back home for a couple of days."

Hugo sounded genuinely worried at that, and Rory felt an surge of affection for the man. She _liked_ Hugo, dammit. She liked Hugo and she liked her job, and the only thing she wanted from life was to keep doing it.

"I hope I can work it out," Rory told Hugo. "I'd let you know by the end of the week, I swear."

After that, she went back to the motel room and booked a flight.

. . .

The cafe was small and luminous, the kind of sleek, modern place Logan had always liked. It was no Luke's – the comparison almost unconscious after so many years – but then again no place was ever like Luke's, so that was okay. Rory cradled her coffee cup (macchiato, with sugar) in both hands, resisting the temptation to take a sip. With only two small cups of the caffeinated stuff allowed per day, she wasn't about to finish this one anytime soon.

"Rory."

And there he was, bringing an infinity of memories back to her mind with just a single word.

"Logan," she said, timidly and hating herself for it. "Hi."

He was standing beside her table just like Rory remembered – _and of course he would_ , she scolded herself, _it's been hardly a month_ – like she'd pictured so many times in the moments before falling asleep, like her imagination made flash and standing in front of her.

"You look –" Rory caught herself before saying _well_ , or even worse, _good_. That was not something to say to one's ex-boyfriend in this situation. "Very local," she said instead. And he _was_ –wearing blue jeans of all things; Rory hadn't even known he _owned_ a pair, and they'd shared an apartment for _months_.

"You look lovely," Logan said, but there was no hint of teasing in his voice, no compliment. Matter-of-factly, like something of no consequence. He took a seat on the table in front of her, never breaking eye contact.

"So you got my message," Rory began, before realizing what she'd said. "Of course you got my message. Because you called me back and told me where to meet."

"I did," Logan said. He was smiling now, looking every bit as wistful as Rory felt. "So are you going to tell me?"

And there it was. She'd spent so long planning this moment out in her mind – the whole time on the plane and her ride into town, again and again, and now that it was time she felt just as nervous as she had two days earlier, staring at a pregnancy test in a too-hot motel room.

 _Stop that_ , Rory found herself thinking, in an inner voice that sounded surprisingly like Paris Gellar. _You don't_ need _him. He left you, you left him, you are an independent strong woman, you both made that freaking child. So what if he doesn't like it – he can suck it_.

Yes, definitely Paris.

"Okay, here it is," Rory steadied herself. "I'm pregnant."

Logan didn't react badly at that. In fact, he didn't react at all. He just took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. "How long have you known?"

"Couple of days," Rory told him. "Literally. I… wasn't expecting that."

"Yeah," Logan said. "Tell me about it."

Rory nodded. "Right. So I, uhm, Took the test. Then I went to the doctor, and called you."

"Wait," he interrupted. "So I'm the first person you told? Even before your mom?"

Logan was _smiling_ , even, like she'd done something amazing instead of just being too much of a coward to call anyone else. Rory frowned at the thought – she wasn't exactly anticipating having to tell Lorelai, even though she knew her mother's reaction would be miles better than.. other people's. Like her grandparents, for one.

"But then I should have guessed. If you told your mom then you surely wouldn't be _here_."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Rory asked, piqued. "And what you mean you should have guessed – you literally found out five seconds ago." More important, why was he taking it so well? Logan Huntzberger, party king and eternal manchild, who was definitely not freaking out at the news of his ex-girlfriend being pregnant. He looked like he liked the idea.

 _Oh god. I'm in the Twilight Zone._

"Rory," Logan began. "You told me you wanted to talk to me face to face about something important. I didn't accidentally pack any of your family heirlooms when I moved, so…" And then he wasn't smiling anymore. "And well, your mother hates me so I'm pretty sure she would have done everything she could to keep you away from me if you told her first."

He wasn't _wrong_ , but still. "Oh, don't act like you didn't go out of your way to make her hate you, Logan."

"Yeah, right. I did everything to – you know what," Logan said. "Nevermind. We're not here to talk about your mother, right?"

"Yeah, I think that's better." She'd never talked of his mother with Logan when they were dating, it surely didn't seem like a good thing to start now. "So are you actually going to order something to eat, or what? Because I think the guy at the counter is shooting us dirty looks."

"Nah," Logan shrugged. He didn't even turn to check. "That's Paul. He's cool."

"Do you come here a lot?" Rory asked, then immediately winced because – no. They weren't there to talk about _that_ , about Logan's brand new Californian life that somehow had him wearing blue jeans at eleven in the morning. That was ridiculously close to actually discussing the big elephant in the room like the mature adults they clearly _weren't_. So.

Thankfully, just shrugged again. "Sometimes. Excuse me."

While he went to order, Rory went back to staring into her coffee, wondering what the hell was going on. Maybe that wasn't Logan, but some kind of pod person. Or maybe there was _something_ in the Bay water, or maybe –

"Hey."

Logan was back. "So, I got us bagels," he said, holding them up. "I thought maybe we could take a walk, if you want."

Rory understood. There was a pleasant chatter in the café, and they'd been pretty quiet so far, but if there was even the slightest risk they'd end up arguing, outside was the place to be.

"Yeah, sure," she nodded. "Let's walk. I love walking."

They'd gone almost a block without talking when Logan spoke up. "Is it just me," he asked, "or this is really awkward?"

Rory found herself laughed despite everything. "It's definitely not you. But it could have been worse, so. Not complaining."

"So," he said. "You're pregnant. Can I ask how far along?"

"Sixteen weeks." It still felt _ridiculous_ to say.

"Sixteen –" Logan made a startled sound. " _Rory_. Jesus."

"I know," she nodded. "And the say Yale students are bright."

"Mmm. That's… a lot," Logan said. "And what about you – how are you… you know, handling things?"

Rory stared down at her feet. "Awfully." It felt good to let it out. "I really, really wasn't expecting this. I didn't _plan_ for this, and you know how bad I am at things I didn't plan, I don't want to be pregnant, especially _now_ , and they wouldn't let me get an abortion because –"

"Hang on," Logan said. He tugged on her hand, stopping her. "Rory, you're not getting an abortion."

"What the _hell_ , Logan?" Rory released her hand from his grip. He hadn't _actually_ hurt her, but he'd come close. "First of all, that's really not your call to make. Even if I was getting one, which I'm not."

She glared at him. "But that's really none of your business anyway."

"None of my – Rory, don't you see a problem here?"

She started walking again. "What, you being an ass?"

"No, you thinking about _getting an abortion_ before even telling me. I know your family likes to think the father counts less than nothing, but Rory –"

"And here I thought," she interrupted. "That you said we weren't making this about my mom?"

"Well, I can hear her talking when you open your mouth, so…"

Rory closed her eyes. She'd forgotten how exhausting Logan could be – he was always so sure of being in the right, so stubborn and implacable when he got going. "Logan," she said. "Just shut up for five seconds."

"Right," Logan said. "Look, I'm sorry, just – why on Earth would you even _want_ to, Rory, it's not like you have money problems, or just –"

"Maybe is because I don't want it? I'm twenty-two, Logan. Twenty-two. You remember being that age? It must have been right around the time when you were sinking yachts," Rory said. "And I have a job that requires me to be, you know, not pregnant. A job I really like, and now I have to quit and go back home, and my mom will freak out and say it's okay, but she will be so disappointed, and my grandparents –" Rory realized to her horror that she was about to cry.

"Hey," Logan put one arm around her shoulder. "Hey. I'm sorry, I was stupid and I was an ass. We're gonna work things out, okay?"

Rory almost – she didn't _sniff_ , okay? It just sounded like it. "Yeah," she said, gloomily. "I mean, my family can't actually kill me, so I guess we'll figure it out."

"That's the spirit," Logan nodded. "Just… please, promise one thing." He looked her in the eyes, and she'd never seen him look this _vulnerable_ in her life. "Tell me you're keeping it. Or… like, if you decide you don't want to, just tell me so I can talk you out if it? Please?"

And that was when Rory _understood_.

Logan's reaction had taken her by surprise. His unexpected _contentment_ about the situation, the way he hadn't even remotely mentioned the last time they'd seen each other, the way he kept calling her _Rory_ like he didn't even care anymore. His quiet acceptance, how he'd completely _freaked out_ when she'd only _mentioned_ looking into getting an abortion. From someone like Logan, someone with his past and track record, who had probably had at least one pregnancy scare in his past, Rory had hardly been expecting anything – a check, maybe, or a nonchalant offer of holiday visits.

Polite disinterest, not this level of visceral devotion.

Logan _wanted_ this.

Realistically, it made sense. He was older than her, even if for so long it hadn't seemed like it – well into his mid-twenties instead of just starting out in life. He had security, knew what he wanted. He had a life, and no one to share it with.

She should have guessed this from the first moment. Hadn't Logan just asked her to _marry_ him barely a month earlier? He'd wanted a family, desperately; and now he was getting a do-over.

Rory sighed. Why was life always so _complicated_?

Logan was still staring at her, waiting for an answer. "Yeah," Rory told him. "Sure. I promise."

She'd figure out a way. Somehow.


	2. The Ugly

"I like it here," Rory said, absent-mindedly. From the corner of his eye, Logan could see her turning her head to take in the ordered street, the lazy mid-morning traffic, the endless blue of the sky.

 _Good_ , he thought. _It's good that she likes it_.

It was the vicious part of him – that mean streak that was his most distinctive family trait – that wanted Rory to look around and think of the life they could have had, the life she had refused him.

The other part of him, the one that had been in love with this girl to the point of _drowning_ in it, more deeply and completely than he'd ever loved anything or anyone in his entire life – that part was busy drinking in everything Rory, making a methodical catalogue inside his mind. _That's Rory's smile_ , he thought. _Not as enthusiast as it used to be, but she has been stressed._ Then there was Rory's rambling, still the same; and Rory's laugh, a little shorter, a little more self-conscious. The way she clutched her coffee cup in one hand – and just how many had she had? They'd have to talk about her caffeine intake – and the way she frowned a little before saying his name…

"Logan?"

From the tone of Rory's voice, it was clear that hadn't been the first time she'd called his name.

"Yeah," he said. "Sorry. I was thinking."

Rory's frown deepened, and it was clear she had been as well – just not about the same thing as he had. It was a quirk of Rory's, to overthink everything, and she definitely was doing it now. Upon first meeting her, Logan had used to find it endearing – he himself had the bad habit of only focusing on the good times, and finding a girl who could make being responsible look adorable had been its own brand of charm.

Of course, that had been before he'd seen what the paralyzing doubt of always having to be perfect had done to Rory. Right now, he mostly found it annoying.

"Right…" Rory said. "Are we going somewhere? Because I know everyone _really_ loves the outdoors here in California, but I think I've done enough walking for the day."

Logan found himself smiling – before remembering that no, he really should not. He shouldn't get used to this. It wasn't like Rory was going to stay.

"We should go to my place," he said. "I've got to go into work anyway. You could just stay there until you have to fly back, there's plenty of space…" Rory was looking at him strangely, and he _knew_ what she wanted to know – was 'his house' the same one he'd meant to be _theirs_ , the one with the pale blue curtains and the avocado tree in the backyard?

But if she wasn't going to ask, Logan would not be the one to tell.

"My flight back is at four actually," Rory said, after a lengthy pause. She made a pretty good attempt at a smile. "There's air conditioning, right? I'm only going if there's air conditioning."

"Sure."

It all felt so stifled. _So goddam awkward_. And two flights in eight hours – that couldn't _not_ have been expensive, more that he'd thought Rory would spend. He's expected her to pick some cranky, middle-of-the-night flight to save money; but then again, he didn't know what Rory even planned to do. Go back to the campaign trail? Go talk to Hugo face to face to quit her job? Fly home to her family?

It suddenly hit him that he had no idea what Rory _wanted_ , if she even had thought that far. What she meant do during her pregnancy, to _their_ child, and all the years after…

"Logan…" it was Rory. "You alright?"

He realized he must have been frowning. "Yeah, sorry." He wondered how open Rory would be to _his_ plan. Not much, surely. "I was just thinking about your flight. Come on, we're almost there."

"What about my flight?"

"Can I pay for your ticket?" The words were out of his mouth before he even realized it. "I mean," he tried to backpedal. "It's my fault you had to fly all the way over here, and on such short notice –"

But Rory shock her head, as he'd expected she would. "Logan, there's really no need." And then. "Actually I'm, uh, using my dad's card. The one for emergencies. I guess I'll have to explain why, but it's not like he's not going to find out anyway, so…"

She didn't look happy at the prospect of telling her family _anything_. She didn't even look nervous, as Logan had expected she would. She just looked – resigned, and so damn _sad_ , like a convict awaiting a death sentence.

 _We should talk about that, too._

Which was great, really. Talking was amazing. Talking was an excellent way not to think about things, and everything would greatly be improved by people talking more. Like their entire relationship, for example.

When they got to their destination – a small, freshly-repainted house not far from the Bay Trail – Rory looked around frowning, probably making mental comments about how everything inside looked like it'd just come straight from the Ikea catalogue.

Which it had, actually. Logan had driven past the store for the first time on his way to his job interview and later, after breaking up with Rory, the prospect of having to pick furniture by himself when he'd always envisioned it as the first thing they would have done together in their new house – well. He'd just gone in and bought the complete everything. The complete bedroom set, and the complete kitchen set, and everything else that made decorating his house a half-a-day's job.

"You can sit down, you know," he told Rory, amused. She'd been tiptoeing around his couch for an entire minute. "It only _looks_ like a department store."

"If you want to lay down or something, it's the second door on the left. _Guest room_." Logan added at the panicked look on Rory's face, because yes, still not going there.

"And, uh. Do you want something to drink?"

At that, Rory finally smiled again, for real this time. "It's eleven in the morning, Logan. And besides, I shouldn't really –"

"I meant juice. Or iced tea – there should be some left in the fridge."

She laughed at that. "Since when do you drink _iced tea_?"

"Peach flavored." Logan nodded seriously. "It's all the sweeteners they put in. It's addictive."

"Sounds dangerous," Rory said. "I like it."

Logan liked it, too. He liked her smile and her eyes and the comfortable presence of her body next to him. He liked it too much for his own good.

They ended up talking, of course, about Rory's new job – the perfect topic of conversation in Logan's mind, so far removed from everything they'd experienced as a couple to be almost completely painless. There was the way Rory caught herself mid-sentence, letting her voice trail off whenever she caught herself saying things like, _next week we should to this_ and _by October we should go there_ ; but that was good, Logan thought. He had an idea.

Just as he'd expected, Rory really didn't seem to like the life of a traveling reporter much. She loved writing about politics, that much was clear, and the rush that came with having started her first adult job – and didn't Logan remember _that_ well – but he'd lost count of how many times she had complained about the campaign bus, the uncomfortable seats and the constant company of the other reporters.

"And the food, seriously – you know how much I don't care about healthy food choices, but McDonald's four times a week is a bit too much even for me. That food's been making me all cranky for weeks…" Rory stopped, suddenly.

"Or maybe it wasn't the food?"

"Shut up," Rory said. "God, I'm feeling like such an idiot."

"Mmm." Logan snuck a look at his watch. It was now eleven thirty-five – still plenty of time, he told himself. Swimming in it.

"So," he began. "Do you want to talk about tomorrow yet?"

She blinked. "What's tomorrow?"

Logan made an airy gesture with his hand. "You know," he said. "Tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, next week. You said you're flying back, but what are you doing after – did you book a flight to Connecticut, because I could do that if –"

"Not yet," Rory said, biting her lip as she shook her head slowly. "You know, I haven't even _thought_ about how to break it to my family yet. I was thinking I should start with my dad, ironically enough."

"That's good?" Logan said, in what he hoped was an encouraging tone and not a question. He liked – Logan _knew_ it was probably the thing most likely to get him branded as a bad influence by almost everyone in Rory's life, but he _did_ like Chris. He understood the man all too well, the weight of responsibly and the stuffy constriction of an impersonal life, the desperate escapism and the frenetic diversions; he understood what was like to wake up one morning and realize you finally had caught up with the world and everyone around you was so much better at this _mature adult_ thing than you could ever hope to be, but still. He understood _amends_.

It also helped that Chris was the one member of Rory's family who would never try to guilt-trip her over anything, for that exact reason.

"So call your dad," he told Rory. "And then everyone else. Just – start with him first."

Rory was biting her lip again. "Yeah, but that _everyone else_ is pretty big, you know? I don't even – I've barely talked to my mom in the last month, because everything's been so crazy, and now the first thing she's going hear from me is… this. And even if I don't give my Grandpa another heart attack, he and Grandma are going to be insufferable, and disappointed, and dead-set on the idea of –"

She stopped but it was to late – and it wasn't like Logan couldn't have figured out for himself, as if he hadn't already since Rory had left him that first voicemail, but it was so _different_ here, so removed from all the scheming craziness of Hartford. People in Palo Alto just didn't _think_ that way; and Logan rather liked his new Californian persona. It went well with the new phase of his life – blue jeans at the office, sushi on Tuesdays, no matchmaking families to speak of.

Still, he'd also _rather liked_ the idea of marrying Rory, too, up to about a month ago. He'd been thinking about it for so long now – since before London, since what felt like forever. So he might not be a relationship expert but he'd thought he knew how it worked – you loved somebody, you married, you lived happily ever after. He'd forgotten that sometimes love just isn't enough, which is why he couldn't help what was shaping up to be an incredibly awkward long pause, and the way his tongue went rigid in his mouth.

"Right," he said, which was still somewhat of an accomplishment, considering the situation. He didn't want – he didn't want this girl who turned him down only weeks ago to be forced into becoming his wife out of tradition and sheer circumstance. Logan might have hit some truly spectacular lows in his life, but he was not that pathetic. He had more pride than that.

But he was still – he was in _something_ with Rory, which was why he forced himself to keep a casual tone.

"Just checking," Logan asked, with forced cheerfulness. "You haven't miraculously changed your mind about marrying me in the last couple days, have you?"

Rory actually flinched, like he'd slapped her – and didn't Logan feel like a _shit_ at that – but then she actually had to take a few seconds before speaking, which was mildly insulting and enough to make him feel like they were even.

Bitterness was another thing he'd got from his dad.

"I – no." Rory said, and Logan just smiled up at her, his best Business Smile, all twinkling eyes and white teeth and zero sincerity.

"You can relax," he said. "I swear I'm never going to ask again."

And he meant it, Logan told himself. He absolutely, one hundred-percent meant it.

"Now that we've established there won't be any aisle walking anytime soon…" he should really stop doing that, Logan knew it, but he was on a roll already, and this was so easy and so much better than the old boring self-loathing routine. "Can I help you find a doctor, at least? I mean, you're flying to _Indiana_ , do they even have phone reception over there? I could find someone local, you could just fly over every few weeks for a check-up…"

Rory was looking at him strangely. "Logan," she said, slowly. "I'm not getting a doctor in California?"

"Why now?" he shot back. "I know you Rory, you won't be quitting your job until you absolutely _have_ to. And since you'll be moving around until then, it make more sense for the one of us who's actually based somewhere to take care of those things –"

But Rory shook her head. "Logan. I thought that was clear. I'm – I'm moving back home for this."

Now it was Logan's turn to frown. "What do you mean, you're _moving back_?" He'd thought – he'd considered the idea, obviously; one couldn't think of Rory without thinking Stars Hollow, but the blatant discomfort he'd seen on Rory's face every time the subject of Connecticut had come up had made it pretty obvious that it was the last thing she wanted.

"Rory," he said. "I live in _California_."

"And I don't," Rory said. "I live in Stars Hollow, and I'm going back there. Then I'll get a place in Hartford and a job or something but – I need to be there. I can't do it alone. I don't even know if I can do it at –"

"And who the hell am I?" Logan asked. "No one?"

"Don't be a martyr, Logan," Rory said. "I didn't say that."

"Right. You didn't say that. We talked for one hour about you living in a bus instead of under a roof, and you said you have to quit your job, and I'm the only one of us who's actually got both of these things right now, but who cares, right? Because you're moving to the other side of the continent –"

"Well, I'm certainly not moving to _Palo Alto_ , Logan," Rory cut him off. "You tried that already, remember?"

And that was just too much. He needed _air_.

"You know what, Rory," he said, standing up and looking around the room for his work briefcase. It had to be _somewhere…_ "I'm not moving to east either, so try to imagine a world where things don't always work out the way you want them to. I'll call you in a couple days."

And he knew that wasn't – that wasn't how he should act, that they should be reasonable about this and talk it out like adults, that the last time one of them had got on a plane after an argument it had been _catastrophic_. He should stay but he _couldn't_ – he couldn't look Rory in the face when she spoke about _moving back home_ , like he hadn't tried to escape from that shadow his whole life. Like she'd been expecting him to throw away everything; the way she'd said _I can't do this alone_ , like she'd written him off without even giving him a chance.

"Close the door when you leave, will you?"

And then he was outside, lost in a kaleidoscope of bright colors and screaming voices in his mind.


	3. The Call

**A/N:** Hi guys! It's great to see most people are enjoying this, so I guess I'll continue.  
I usually answer reviews privately, but this time I answered some at the bottom of the page since that gave me a chance to better expand on the characters and themes of this story. Thanks for reading!

 **3.**

Never in her entire life had Rory ever thought she would get _kicked out_ by Logan Huntzberger of all people, right after seeing said man take off in a storm of self-righteous indignation. It had been so bizarre, seeing Logan so passionate about something, so self-assured. He usually never cared enough about things to the point of getting in an argument over it.

He'd chosen the worst possible moment to grow up.

Logan's strange behavior occupied her thoughts for most of her return flight, and Rory was back in Indiana and almost to the motel when she realized that she still hadn't made any decisive plan. This one was a different motel than the one she'd stayed at two days ago – the campaign trail had moved in the past couple days – but it had still the same cheap, impersonal look, the same smell of lemony detergent in the air.

She was still rooming with Jenna, like always, and the blonde was already in the room when Rory came in, jumping on her feet the moment the door opened.

"Rory," the other girl called, breathlessly. "You're back! How… how did things go?"

Things. _Well, that's a nice euphemism_.

She hadn't told her roommate the whole story, of course. It was too long, too painful, and would probably make no sense to someone who hadn't grown up around Rory's crazy family and her grandparents' crazy society friends. All Jenna knew were the basics – an ex-boyfriend, devoted and immature who probably hated her by now, and a complicated family with a bitter story of teenage pregnancy. All in all, your usual telenovela material.

Rory walked over to what she assumed was her own bed – Jenna's was a mess of the blonde's things already – and sat down slowly. "It was… weird," she said, finally.

Jenna frowned. "Weird, how?"

"Well," Rory began. "First of all, he doesn't hate me. Second, he took it well – a bit too well, actually. It was uncanny," she didn't really know how to explain Logan to someone who didn't know him – Logan just _was_ , like a force of nature.

"I mean, all through school he was this party guy – he always knew where the fun was, where to find the strongest drinks and the best adventures, and once he graduated…" she shook her head. "It was the same thing, you know? He tried to do the responsibility thing for a while, but he was still all about taking the biggest risks."

"So what happened that was so weird?"

Rory met Jenna's eyes; this time it was her turn to frown. "I told you, he's borderline _ecstatic_. It doesn't make any sense – he went from being… Logan, to turning into someone that's actually looking forward to changing diapers and getting woken up at three in the morning by a baby crying. He totally freaked out when he found out I looked into getting an abortion, I mean, he _exploded_ … and then he tried to talk me into getting a doctor in _California_." The last part still stung. Rory looked down at the floor. It was carpeted in a non-descript brown color, nothing if not depressing. "We actually, uh. We had a fight about that, and then he left."

Jenna made an indignant noise, eyes narrowing. "He left you?" she asked, eyes narrowing. "What a _jerk_."

Rory had never been more grateful for female solidarity in her entire life. "I know," she moaned, putting her heads in her hands. "He's kinda got a temper. I guess it was actually good that he left when he did, or we would've ended up in a screaming match."

And she herself _hated_ fighting – hated, hated, hated it; with a passion. Thinking back to it, that must had been an early sign that they weren't meant to last. Rory Gilmore, the most non-confrontational human being on the planet, dating a guy who stared fights at family dinners for fun? Not exactly made for each other.

She cleared her throat. "So, anyway. I need to set something up with my boss… and then I guess I'll have to call my dad before he gets his next credit card statement." She didn't really know which call would be the worst. Not to mention telling the rest of her family.

"How long are you staying on the trail?" Jenna asked. Rory shrugged.

"As long as I can, I guess. I like the work." Sure it was boring and uncomfortable, but it was also real news. History was happening in front of her eyes. She'd hate to give it up.

"And what about after?"

Rory looked up at her. "What do you mean after? I can't really live off a bus with a baby, can't I." There was no way around that, as much as she wished there was.

Jenna moved in closer, sat down on the bed next to her. She was look at Rory carefully. "So you're keeping it?"

"Well, yes," that was pretty self-explanatory, wasn't it. "I told you I'm not getting an abortion, so." Childbirth still didn't sound attractive, but Rory supposed she would change her mind eventually. Wasn't this how the story went?

"I meant _after_ the birth, Rory," Jenna sounded very invested. Her sister, Rory remembered, was a doctor who worked in Portland and volunteered at Planned Parenthood. Jenna's attentiveness was the reason she'd figured it out in the first place; of course she'd want to know more. "You're actually going to raise the child?"

And that was – that was such an un-Gilmore question, wasn't it. As if she'd ever even contemplate anything else.

" _Of course_ I'm raising the child," Rory said, vehemently. Unplanned pregnancy was in the family books by now – awkward and a social stain, but something to be endured. Abandoning a child? Never. Abortion was fine to consider – she was a modern woman, a feminist, a college graduate; of course she would entertain the thought of ending the pregnancy, whatever her final decision. But having the child, then giving it up? That was not something Rory Gilmore, daughter of Lorelai, would ever do. It would be like – it would be like spitting in the face of her mother, who'd put her own life on hold for Rory's sake, a disrespect to the endless years of family feuds that followed. Another way to say – _hey, I'm Rory Gilmore, golden girl. Never had to work for anything a day in my life. Even in this, taking the easy way out_.

"What else can I do?"

. . .

She called Hugo first, imagining it would be the tiniest bit less awkward than calling her dad. He answered after the third ring, sounding perfectly pleasant, and Rory felt the sharp sting of tears in her eyes. Why did she had to go and mess everything up so much? Things had been going so well.

"Hi, Rory," he said. "Is everything well with your family?"

 _Damn_. Why couldn't her boss have been an asshole? Like Mitchum. Had she been working for someone like Mitchum, she wouldn't have felt so guilty that she had to quit with so little notice.

"Hi, Hugo," she said. "Look, that's… actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Something's come up."

"Okay," he answered, still unbelievably nice. Even Doyle would do. She wouldn't have felt guilty telling Doyle she had to leave her job.

"Hugo…" Rory began. "You know I love this job, and I thank you for giving me this opportunity… but I don't think I can keep at it for long." She paused. "I just found out that I'm pregnant."

There was a long silence on the other side.

"Right," Hugo said. "I guess congratulations are in order?"

Rory laughed. To her hears, it sounded more like a sob. "I guess so," she said. "Hugo, you should know that it wasn't in any way planned and I absolutely didn't know when I took the job –"

"Relax," he said. "Of course you didn't know, Rory. It's fine." Rory found herself smiling. Thought they'd been mere acquaintances when he'd offered her the job, a series of late-night calls and emails had turned their relationship into something very much like friendship. "So, when it's the little Gilmore Junior due?"

He didn't ask her if it was Logan's, which she appreciated. She didn't even know if the two of them kept in touch; with all that had happened in Palo Alto, she'd forgotten to ask Logan about it. Rory swallowed. "December first."

"December…" Hugo began, then trailed off. "Wow. That's pretty soon."

Rory started to nod before realizing he couldn't see her. "I _know_ ," she said. "You should've seen my face when I found out. I have no idea how it took me so long to realize it." And how many more days or weeks would have took if Jenna hadn't been there? Denial was an amazing thing. Rory was great at it.

"So, Rory," Hugo asked. "I'll take it you're calling to see if we can arrange for maternity leave?"

 _Maternity_ – did she have to go through this _again_?

"Hugo," she cleared her throat. "As I told you I love this job, and of course I'll try to keep at it for as long as possible… but I really don't think I can come back after the birth."

Another pause, longer this time. "I see," he said. "Are you really sure, Rory? Because you're one of my best and I like you and I'll be happy to arrange for someone else to cover for you for a few weeks if you wanted to come back –"

"I'm sure," Rory said, firmly.

She made to hang up, then thought better about it. "Thanks though," she told Hugo. "I really appreciate it."

. . .

I wasn't exactly fair, Rory was reflecting later that night, how apparently everyone in her life seemed to enjoy making assumption about what she would do with her life. Logan talking about moving out to California had been weird, and frankly a bit annoying, impulsive and high-handed the way she perhaps should have expected; but Jenna and Hugo had been even worse.

Her roommate had apologized for her words, of course, polite as usual, and told Rory that she shouldn't have brought it up before Rory herself had, but she'd seen of less than enthusiast Rory seemed to be about becoming a mother, and had assumed. Less than enthusiast – these had been Jenna's exact words.

"To be frank you completely freaked out," her roommate had said. "Going on and on about how you couldn't be pregnant and you liked being on the road – more than I do, obviously," that last bit had come with a self-deprecating smile. "And how all you wanted was to live out your life, and that's not really something you can do with a newborn child, and you said you didn't want to call your family, like it was something bad –"

"This has nothing to with my family," Rory had interrupted, maybe a bit too loudly. "They're just – they're very dramatic and they would freak out, and that's not the kind of news you can say on the phone, but we get along." She'd looked straight into Jenna's questioning eyes. "I swear. They adore me."

How long for, Rory wasn't sure about.

And now there was Hugo, asking if she was sure she didn't want to come back, playing up perfectly on all of Rory's wishes and insecurities. It wasn't fair how he would put an option on the table that wasn't really there, talked of things that could never happen as though they were real possibilities.

No, Rory wouldn't come back. Rory _couldn't_ come back, not with a child to take care of and, no Jenna, _Rory_ would have to be the one to take care of it. It wouldn't be fair to do anything else, especially not to the child, who'd done nothing to be abandoned and deserved the best in life – including a mother. _Adoption_ – and didn't that sound so much like a dirty word – was for other people; poor people or ill people or teenage mothers or anyone but Rory Gilmore, in perfect health and with an Ivy League education and a trust fund to fall back on.

And even if she hadn't had those things it would have been no excuse – her own mother had been a runaway sixteen year old with no money and no fancy diploma and she'd made it work all the same, and work wonderfully. If Lorelai could do it, then Rory herself had no excuse.

Her mind made up, she dialed another number.

. . .

"Rory, honey," her father said. He sounded shocked. "You're _what_?"

Rory clamped the phone in her white fingers, voice trembling. "Surprise."

"Rory…" If even _Christopher_ , of all people, was sounding this shocked, then it was a good thing Rory had stalled so long in telling her mother. And her grandparents; she was shivering at the thought.

"Anyway," she cut in, ignoring the anxiety making its way through her body. "I figured I should tell you first thing before you check your bank accounts and wonder why the hell your daughter had to fly to California and back in two days. That's why. I figured I had to tell Logan first."

"Logan…" he was sounding almost threatening, which was laughable, really, coming from him. Rory hadn't failed to notice the irony of it during that first flight – California had been where Christopher himself had lived for most of her childhood. "What'd he say?"

"Oh," Rory couldn't quite keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "He thought it was the greatest thing ever. I think his parents' conditioning for the perfect Stepford family is running deeper than we thought. He even asked me to move out to California – I guess when you burn all your bridges you stop caring about what people think."

"Well," Christopher said, slowly. "That's not such a bad idea, Ror."

Rory laughed. Maybe she was sounding a bit hysterical but – well. She more than had reason for it. "What? California?"

"I'm assuming he's got a job there?" As he spoke, Rory realized that it shouldn't have been so unexpected, coming from Christopher. He had been as disappointed at the news of their break-up as Lorelai had been secretly delighted. "And a house? That's more stability than you have right now."

He paused. "Unless he does, because then ignore what I just said. If he doesn't you could stay here for a while, Boston's got plenty of job opportunities, you can come visit and see –"

Rory couldn't even believe they were having this conversation. "Dad," she interrupted, curtly. "I _can't_ go to California. Or Boston. I'm moving back to Stars Hollow."

There was a pause on the line.

"Rory," he said, actually sounding like a responsible adult for what could possibly be the first time since her twelfth birthday. "Are you sure this is what you want? You just moved away _a month ago_ , Ror. Do you really –"

"Mom's in Stars Hollow, dad."

That shut him up, as Rory knew it would. "I can't do this alone." So what if that had been meant to hurt. It was still true, and Rory wasn't exactly feeling like pulling punches at the moment.

"Rory," her father started again, a while after. His voice was strange. "God only knows you don't exactly need my advice. But think about it. Do you really want to stay in Stars Hollow your entire life?"

"Of course not," she said. "It wouldn't be _my entire life_. I just –" she paused. "I need…"

"Rory," he said again. "Do you want to come here for a visit? We could talk face to face and maybe –"

"I can't do that, dad," Rory told him. "I just came back from California, and I'll need to take time off again to fly to Connecticut, and for doctor's appointments, and…" she forced a giggle. "My boss's nice, but I think even he's got his limits."

It was a dismissal that would have made Emily Gilmore proud. Rory counted the seconds of silence. One elephant, two elephants, three elephants, four elephants…

"Of course, honey," her said. "Of course. I'll… call you in a couple days, okay? Or you can call me, whenever you want, you know…"

Another awkward pause. He cleared his throat.

"Anyway," he went on. "Everything'll work out, you'll see. Just – Rory, you just do what you think it's best for you, okay? What you want."

His words stayed with her long into the night.

What, exactly, did she want?

. . .

 **– reviews responses –**

As I said, I'm going to be answering publicly to these reviews that brings up stuff that'll give me a chance to explain why I wrote this story and these characters the way I'm doing it here.

 **pjpjb** : "Its very different from the other rogan stories. Rory not wanting the baby is not like her but i want to know more… I like the way logan is handling the news."  
 **Guest** : "I'm very... surprised, at how you've got Rory handling this. I like how Logan is dealing, and can see him being something like this."

First of all, I'm glad you guys liked Logan. I think that considering the way he was at the end of the series, ready (and enthusiast) to get married, it'd make sense that he'd actually like the idea of becoming a father. Considering his background, the way marriage and children go hand in hand in his social circle, and the way he's just started the 'serious' chapter of his life, I can see him acting this way.

As for Rory, my point is – I actually think this is exactly how someone like Rory would react. I know pregnancy fics are very popular in this fandom for obvious reasons but in canon Rory has shown _no inclination whatsoever_ towards the idea of being a mother. Why should she? She's young, she's accomplished and with a head full of dreams. She's a control freak, the kind of person who would only start a family after planning it for years, after she was sure she had the perfect job and the perfect relationship in the perfect city. I've read a lot of fics where Rory goes 'Oh my god I'm pregnant' and then, five seconds later 'THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER' and I've always rolled my eyes a bit and thought 'no way Rory would say that. She wants to travel and see the world and she had a Planned Parenthood poster in her dorm room for a year. She would get an abortion.' So I wrote that (**)

 **Droolia** : "Good for him for asking questions and letting her know where he stands. Knowing Rory, there would be a lot of indecision and waste of time. Looking forward to Rory's pov."  
 **xshynenstarx** : "Hmm they really need to talk. But I agree with Logan, Rory seems to be disregarding him and the fact he's the father. He actually has a job and a place to live while Rory is hoping to get a job when then spring it on them she needs to go on maternity leave? Good luck with that. She'd have an easier time getting support from her parents and grandparents"

This also gives me the chance to expand on some stuff I couldn't fit in the story re: Rory's view of Logan's involvement. It's true, she's acting like the fact that he's the father doesn't matter, but let's consider Rory's upbringing here. She was _raised_ to consider the father's involvement in a child's life minimal unless they're married. That's the way she sees parent/child relationship – the mother is everything and the dad doesn't really matters. I know Christopher gets a lot of flak in the fandom, and I agree that some of it is genuinely deserved (even allowing for the inconsistent writing) but Lorelai's take on the 'raising a child' issue was 'I don't wanna get married so all of you who are telling me to, baby daddy included, can go fuck off. I'll let y'all know in a few months if I'm even alive.' Not that I'm blaming Lorelai, as it was a pretty toxic situation to be in in the first place, but she raised her daughter going out of her way to refuse any help, with the conviction that fathers are just irresponsible sperm donors. Considering the way canon went out of its way to compare Logan and Chris at every possible occasion, it's not strange that Rory would now thing it's all up for her and she's the only one allowed to make decisions, even when she's not exactly in a position to so.

 **author's note** (**) So, I am aware that the whole 'abortion denied' plotline is a bit less realistic than what I'm aiming for this story to be. The reason for that is that, to put it bluntly, an abortion story is boring. Sure, it's fine as a (possibly angsty) one-shot, and quite faithful to what I feel the characters would do, but doesn't exactly have the same potential a kid fic does. So I came up with the 'it was too late to get an abortion' plotline, even though in the US you can in fact get an abortion up to at least five months in, even if you might have to fly a state over or get a second physician. However this kind of things happen more often than I would like where I live, where Catholicism is everywhere and you literally have to leave the country to terminate a pregnancy after three months, so that gave me the idea. Just… let's pretend this could actually happen, because otherwise there wouldn't be a story.

 **Thank you for reading! Leave a review if you're so inclined, that'd make my day.**


	4. Three days

**A/N:** This is more an interlude than anything else. I just had this scene left over from Logan's chapter and wanted to post it.

. . .

. . .

 **4.**

When Logan came back at seven in the evening to an empty house and no Rory, he decided he would give himself five days before calling her. It seemed ideal – time enough for Rory to get used to the idea, enough that perhaps she could talk about her pregnancy without looking like she was talking about her own execution and, at the same time, enough time for Logan himself to calm down, so that maybe he'd be able to have an entire conversation with the mother of his child without running away.

Yes, he told himself, five days was reasonable.

Except, of course, he didn't even make it past the first day before he started to feel the pressing urge to – to _find out_. Was Rory all right? It would be too much to expect that she would take care of herself, of course, but was she still as shocked at the news as she'd been during her brief visit? Would she still go white in the middle of a conversation, as if remembering all over again that yes this was real, this was happening?

Had she – and this was the hardest part to think about – had Rory talked to her family yet? He couldn't imagine that going well. He remembered very well the way Rory had always been crushed under the weight of her family's expectation, perhaps more benevolent than what Logan himself had to go through, but no less stressful in the long run. Rory had lived her entire life striving for excellency – not a bad ideal by any means, of course; but she'd never had how to be any less than perfect, never learned to cope with the occasional failure, and her family had done their best to reinforce the idea that Rory could do no wrong.

Those were heavy shoes to fill. Even Logan, who had turned mediocrity into a lifestyle but still at times had found himself wishing he'd done something different with his life – even he had never envied Rory her position. Beloved by so many, infallible symbol of perfection.

The fall from grace, he decided, must be hurting quite a lot.

In the end, he decided that he could perhaps wait three days. Seventy-two hours. He went to work and after that he let Evan and Sammy from Marketing talk him into going out for dinner to that new steakhouse and bought a round or three for everyone – because that used to work once upon a time, right? Must have been the magic of college, Logan mused. It certainly didn't seem to work anymore.

He woke up the next morning with a pounding headache, because of course a few months of sobriety seemed to have turned him into a lightweight, and headed straight to the office, hoping it would be enough to take his mind off things.

Or, one thing.

One person, was more like it.

 _Two_ person _s_ , one of which would share half his D.N.A., and wasn't that a freaky thought? He hoped he'd managed to pass on the pretty face and his sister's quick wit rather than Shira's penchant for histrionics and Elias's general obnoxiousness. Or anything from his father, really.

He hoped the child would be a boy, not another Lorelai they would name and claim and take away, and that he would have Rory's eyes.

He hoped for many things.

That night he left the office at nine, the kind of workday Mitchum regularly pulled that used to have Logan utterly terrified of ever approaching that level of android-ness, but he'd recently started to figure that work was a lot more attractive when you didn't have anything of notice waiting at home.

He slept like a stone, pretty much what he'd been aiming for, had a bagel and some awfully healthy protein shake for breakfast, and went back to work trying to think of his eleven o'clock meeting instead of his scared, pregnant ex-girlfriend – with varying results. At one point it got so bad that he snapped into a Mitchum-worthy tirade, the kind that got everyone around him to work twice as fast, and got _him_ dirty looks from his boss for the entire afternoon.

At one point, the dirty looks turned concerned. That was when Logan realized it was time to get the hell away; went back home, changed into shorts and a sleeveless shirt, and ran until his legs started to cramp.

There was still an entire day left.

"Look, man," Jason cornered him on the stairs as he was getting back from the corner bakery on the third day – which was, quite frankly, terribly unprofessional of him. "I don't want to butt in or anything but… are you all right?"

Logan just looked at him. He'd had plenty of experience being stared down by his father, everyone's least favorite boss from hell; and Jason, who wore a Berkley tee shirt over his stonewashed jeans on Friday, didn't even compare.

"I'm on lunch break, actually," he said, holding up his sandwich as proof. "Just getting back in."

"Mmh," Jason said. "You're looking pretty rough, though."

"I actually _don't_ ," Logan retorted. He was acutely aware of the importance of good looks and charm in the workplace, and he surely wasn't about to let that go to waste. "Just ask Murton. I seem to remember we did close that deal, didn't we? In record time. I bet that wouldn't have happened if she'd didn't like how I looked yesterday."

"So, you finished everything up with her people?"

He nodded. "Almost. I just need to wait for these emails, then I'll fax –"

"Oh, Sarah can do that," Jason cut in. "Just go home, wouldn't you? Take the afternoon off." And then, for good measures. "I don't want you ruining my employers' mood with your negative vibes."

 _Negative vibes_ , he thought, internally groaning. _Honestly_.

 _Californians_.

Had they been at someone's house watching a football game, Logan would have flipped him off. Instead, he just shrugged. "Do you also believe in the evil eye?" he asked. "Because I could help with that if you'd like."

"Logan, seriously," he said. "I don't want to see your constipated face until at least eight thirty tomorrow."

It was twenty to one in the afternoon; that was almost three entire days. He decided that was as long as he was going to suffer, hurried back to his house in record time, and dialed Rory's number.

It rang eight times, and she didn't answer.

 _Of course_ , he told himself.

Well, that wasn't really surprising, was it? It had been stupid of him to assume she would actually _listen_ to him once he was out of sight and physically unable to get in her face until she remembered he existed. Plus that thing about contributing to an even fifty percent of the baby's genetic heritage.

He tried the number again. No answer.

Was it even the right one? Of course it must be; Rory had called him just four days earlier to set up their meeting. _Four days_ ; it almost seemed unbelievable his life had changed so much in such a short span of time. Four days earlier all he'd been concerned about was whether he should go on that date with Evan's college friend, since Rory was clearly out of his life for good – and now everything had changed.

The third time, he left a message.

"Hey, Rory," he began, resisting the urge to call her _Ace_ because it wouldn't do to fool himself. "I just wanted to know how you're doing. And, uh, talk to you, I guess." He paused, wishing she would pick up the phone. It was agony. "Also, I'm sorry for storming off like that. I didn't want us to fight, but I guess I was kinda immature, so… call me back?" he finished. "Please?"

After that he turned on the television and watched a movie, some silly B rom-com with the frigid career lady and the goofy everyman who fell in love despite having absolutely nothing in common.

"He's a good guy," the woman on the screen was telling her parents, who looked sour and stiffy and not unlike Logan's own. "He just makes everything so simple."

Well, no one had ever accused Logan of being a god guy, and he'd always had a talent for screwing up all the things in his life. He kept staring vacuously at the television as the woman quit her high-paying lawyering job after her shabby-looking boyfriend swore eternal love with a bouquet of roses and a promise to travel the world together. He wanted to gag. He wanted to cry.

Then, suddenly, the phone rang.

He grabbed it. "Rory?" Logan asked, not even stopping to check the number. "Is that you?"

The voice on the other hand was hesitant, unfamiliar. He didn't know her.

"No, sorry," she began. "Uh, I'm a friend. My name's Jenna. Rory's – she can't come to the phone right now. Don't freak out, but – she wasn't feeling so well. I'm calling you from the hospital…"

. . .

. . .

 **\- couple of things -**

1\. Logan has anger issues, is spoiled and entitled. He's trying to work on that, but it doesn't go away in a day. As much as Rory can be selfish, he's far from perfect either.

2\. I never knew I had this big of a dramatic streak in me tbh.

3\. I received so many incredibly insightful reviews on this, I'm literally awed. Some things made me reconsider some of my intial plans for the story, and I was actually pretty set on it - that's how convincing they were. You guys know who you are; thanks so much. Reviews make my life a happy place.


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